things that don’t surprise me

People think I’m crazy, but I love getting into my car and letting the thick, stale air hug me for a minute before the sweat starts to trickle. I wear my hair down and drive with my windows open and try to remember how much I longed for these days in December. I love summer.

This summer day reminds me of the days I lived in Chicago. The oppressive heat is part of it (it was walk or public transport if I wanted to go somewhere), but today makes perfect sense in light of my track record (read funny stories here) of strange things.

I had a meeting at the University for a social media project I’m working on. I know – you’re jealous already. I’m getting paid to do social media and I’m still giddy about it. I decided to bike to campus because parking tickets are outrageous and because I love biking (thank you craigslist and that nice family man in Des Moines who sold me a purple beauty). I realized soon after I started that I would not show up to my meeting looking refreshed.

After I parked my bike and booked it up two flights of stairs to be 5 minutes early, I was wiping sweat off my nose and eyebrows for the next 20 minutes. After I had introduced myself and sat down, I realized my flip-flop was broken. Between my heaving breaths, sweat wiping, and random throat tickle (of all times to get a tickle attack!), I managed to ask intelligent questions while planning an exit strategy with a broken flip-flop.

At the end of the meeting, I peeled myself from the chair in the conference room and squeezed my toes in a last ditch effort to walk out with my dignity (and my broken flip-flop). When I realized this was impossible, I picked up the beaded thrift-store sandal (thanks, Dad) and said, “Well, I guess my flip-flop broke. That’s awkward!”

I thought I’d dealt with the worst of it when I walked out of Ross Hall barefoot and then I climbed on my purple bike. With one flip-flop on and one flip-flop in my right hand, I biked back to my house with a ridiculous case of the giggles. I imagined the inner conversation of every person I met, “I wonder why that girl is barefoot… Doesn’t she know it’s illegal to ride a bike without shoes? Humph…. high school kids! Seriously, she’ll lose a toe!”